After or, A New Start
by Captain Tea
Summary: A somewhat SI/OC story. The unlucky guy finding himself in one of his favorite fandoms isn't quite as happy as he should be. After all; some things are not worth losing, even if you get to live in a world that has ninjas. How will the poor sod deal with being thrown straight into the plot? Will it be disturbed? Will the timeline remain? Who knows!
1. Insertion

Death, he thought, was not what he had expected when he had gone into it. Nothingness, had been his biggest guess for what would come after, and perhaps he had thought that maybe some religion or another had the right of it; he was prepared for brimstone, but surely he was allowed to wish of fluffy clouds and harps?

It would seem that he would get neither, he sadly thought to himself, as the darkness around him contracted and pulsed in an oddly conforting manner. It was warm, and it was dark, where he was, much more he couldn't make out. The lack of needs was unsettling, for one used to the woes of the living. Time passed.

* * *

It had been quite some time since his death, but his prison was unchanging. Sometimes he thought it changed, that it was letting up, that there was hope; but then it'd go away again, and he was left in his misery. His prison, for that was what it called it, didnt let up, and he had to little control of the construct that was supposed to be his body to try to break out. He'd have to endure. He'd have to survive. More time passed.

* * *

Lately his life had changed, for once for the better. Since he had died he had felt weak, powerles and without control, but in recent times he thought he could feel the very basics of motor controls returning. His prison had shrunk around him, doubtlessly an attempt at torture; unsettling him. He wouldn't yield to whatever force was keeping him confined. Once his body was stronger, he would break free; inside of the construct was some heat, some pulsing force that filled him with great confidence. Perhaps he could use it, manipulate it, to break free of his constraints. He could barely await the day when his power had returned to such an extent that he could burst through the pulsating walls and escape in a feat of glory. As he lay plotting, even more time passed.

* * *

When the contractions began, he came to the startling realisation that his prison was a womb, and the construct he was trapped in an infant. It was startling, shocking, and quite frankly, it scared him. He would see what life he would be brought into; after all, if his experiences held through, there were other worlds than these, a new existence only a length of rope, a slice of the knife, away. It was a morbid way to look at life, but with what he had gone through, he was allowed so. Atleast that's what he thought. Then one of the worst experiences of his multiple lives began, and he knew no more; for this memory would be suppressed by his subconcious for all time to come. His birth began.

* * *

He only came to once the worst part was over; he was being held, and his unruly body was crying. Screaming, even. What a lack of decorum, totally unfitting for one such as him; sadly, he could do naught to stop it. He had little to no control, being able to move but his eyes that caught the surrounding world in startling clarity. Had the world always been so clear, sharp?

He didn't react when he heard sharp gasps around him; perhaps his frail body was giving in, or he was born with a serious defect. It didn't faze him, he was prepared to go to great lenghts to obtain a good life; aquiring a new one wouldn't be hard, now that he _knew. _

Perhaps he had been correct, he thought when the edges of his vision started to dull and he felt his concious slip; perhaps he was dying, and he was of to his next existence already. Then he was gone, like dust in the wind.

* * *

Minami Hisao was baffled. He had been contacted very secretively, his task of great importance and secrecy. He was a man with honor in his field of work; he was a iryo-nin, a medic, and if he could say so himself, quite a skilled one. He was particularily well known in Konoha for his skill dealing with child-birth; while often a procedure usually left to the female medics; or even better, the hospitals midwives, Hisao was oft contacted when the birth was dangerous, in risk of compromisation, or when utter secrecy was required.

Hisao himself had much of his skill to thank his unique abilities for; his healing chakra was very potent, but it required very skillful handling, and was not nearly as effective on the battlefield; compared to the normal healing chakra, his also required utter precision and perfect focus; while this was oft said a requirement for any healer, his restructured the cells it manipulated on such a level that a lapse in concentration would very likely be fatal to both him and the patient.

Hisao had long wished for an heir, someone to pass his unique skills onto, but there wasn't much chance of such. Not only was he still a bachelor at approaching thirty; as a shinobi, he was already old. There was, of course, also the problem of his infertility; it was something that could a damper on any hopes of children.

He had considered the possibility of adopting; Kami knew the shinobi world had no lack of orphans; but it didn't sit right with him. If it wasn's a biological child of his, with his strong genes, who would it be? It couldn't be just anyone.

* * *

The answer came to him as he watched the Uchiha head's firstborn pass out from chakra exhaustion from her activated Sharingan eyes. Sharingan eyes, at birth? He couldn't even begin to comprehend to understand how such a thing could be possible, but as he was performing emergency healing on the infant, it came to him that both the parents was panicking, and neither had apparently seen the child's doujutsu.

He wasn't even aware of his actions as he stealthy formed the chakra required for the _Shibo Moho no Jutsu _and performing the handsigns, only realizing his actions once the babe in front of him withered of all life and at once looked lifeless. It took all of his mediocre acting skills to not only keep up his facade, but subtly ensuring that neither Uchiha used their Sharingans on their child. If they did, his life would be forfeit. Luckily, in their grief, they didn't even consider suspecting the trusted and respected iryo-nin of his crime. His plan went off without a hitch; a week later Minami Hisao was found dead in his home, believed to have commited suicide in shame over the failed child-birth. In reality, Minami Hisao and his new daughter, Minami Yuki, was already far from Konoha, disguised as civilians. 

**This is very short; intentionally so. One could say I am testing the waters. Now, to clear up in some things (However, I do like to avoid spoiling, so there's that.) He? She? The infant now named Yuki was, indeed, male, but is now female. Uchiha? Sharingan? Really, have you, to, fallen into the Gary (Or would it be Mary?) Stu trap?**

**No. I have not. First of, as you probably realized from the first paragraphs, Yuki isn't quite right. Secondly, since this is a SI/OC, I felt as if atleast some aspects of the OC should be modeled on the author's self; therefore, I found a nice counterbalance to the birth position of the character; he (or she? You can already tell this confusion is going to be both important to character development and a source of much humor.) has adopted my lazyness! It's perfect. Pairing?**

**I don't like when people spoil the pairing. Now, Yuki is female, but the guy inside of her (oh god why did I word it like that) is male. Straight, mind you. Believable fem!slash (it's called Yuri in this fandom, isnt it?) isnt easy to write, and doesnt happen often, either. It might, though, we'll have to see, won't we! ;-)**


	2. Adaptation

"Time has passed rather quickly, for such dull days," Yuki thought to himself as he lay on a mat, doing whatever babies do. "Although I wish I could gain some more control, already; it's torture being in such a weak body, not knowing anything."

Understandably, Yuki was frustrated. He had managed to pick up his supposed name, and he had realized that the language that his "father" spoke was japanese; now he wished that he had been a more hardcore otaku than he had been and gone all the way, learning more japanese than the horrible japanglish common amongst his fellow western anime lovers.

Not much could be said about the following days; Hisao had taken his new daughter to a secluded village where he had aquired a small house on the outskirts; here, the days passed with Hisao writing in his scrolls, and Yuki doing baby things he'd much prefer to avoid. Potty training, he thought, was the first agenda once he could crawl.

Later, he could not accurately remember his age when he realized, to his great dismay, that the rebirth had bended his gender. It was, Yuki silently fumed, probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him. _Her._

"No," he had thought, "I refuse to refer to myself as that. I can't." And he hadn't, because _he _had always been fond of denial;

it was only a few minutes later when he fully realized just what his change of sex would bring. And he didn't like it one bit. He would never admit to having actually having caused a tantrum as he yelled his curses at the fates or whatever divine power having cursed him so.

Minami Hisao was proud of his daughter. While he had always known that she would be prodigious, he had been nervous when the child had shown great inaptitude for their language, and while she had spoken her first words much later than even normal children, she had proven to be developing extremely quickly; he had never before heard of a child that mastered the art of the potty as early as Yuki had. Once the girl had overcome her struggles with the language, he had quickly decided that introducing the child to the shinobi life early would be beneficial; the sooner she had a certain amount of control and skill, he could begin to pass his unique skills on to the next generation; Minami Yuki _would _be the most skilled and renowned iryo-nin in the Elemental Countries, this he adamantly believed. It would not be so.

* * *

When the exercises had first begun, Yuki had not understood the significance of them. Not being nearly as knowledgable about japanese culture as he had thought himself, he could only shrug as well as his small body could and accept that perhaps it was some custom he had not heard of.

Later, when the exercises turned paranormal, Yuki had, understandably, been quite shaken, but he had hid his unnervance as his _father _observed him; it would not do if his gig was to be discovered; it might very well spell the end for him. And so, he did as he was instructed, and searched for what was described to him as "a warm feeling, flowing inside of you". He would not voice his concerns that maybe his _father _was crazy. Better to roll with it, and hope for the best.

When Yuki had been asked to grasp the feeling, that he had actually managed to locate and _feel, _and apply it to a leaf and stick it to his forehead, he had thought his father stir crazy. When, after many afternoons spent in the shade, growing increasingly more frustrated at the leaf and his father's impossible demand, it stuck, he had been awestruck; for a moment, he had thought it had simply been moisture, sweat or whatever else scientifically explainable that had made it attach, but after trying to shake it off; and failing, he had surrendered, and gone to ask his father just what he had accomplished.

Minami Hisao was not prepared for his daughter to fall dead into a faint when he had told her that she had accomplished the first exercise of basic chakra control.

* * *

Some years later, Yuki found himself carefully studying a cat that was, pretty much, as good as dead. It suffered from a variety of diseases, the most major a very terminal tumor.

"This is going to help you," he reminded himself, "you _need _to know this," as his chakra scalpel carefully opened the cat; brow breaking into a sweat as he concentrated his fleeting mind to keep the feline alive while the procedure was being done. It was routine, by now; animals that should by no rights still be alive would be brought in by his _father, _and he would then be set to the impossible task to try and heal them. He had recieved guidance, at first, but once he had "a sufficent grasp of the basic theory" and the skill required to atleast keep the animals living while he attempted to heal, he had been mostly left to his own devices. He had yet to actually save one of the animals; not that he cared too to much, but he wanted this to be the one.

Perhaps it was because he liked cats somewhat; or maybe it was just his restless mind being tired of going over the same procedure over and over and failing every time; ever since he finished his chakra control exercises a year or so back and had been deemed to have a "sufficent expertise in chakra control", he had been doing this. Day out and day in, except when his father demanded him to do his physical excersises; it was just as important, if not more, for a _shinobi, _to be extremely fit. This he had been told so many times it was probably fried to the brain, if such a thing was even possible. _Shinobi! _The word still baffled him; one of the moments that stood out clearest to him in this new world was when he realized that he wasn't actually in Japan, he was in the Elemental Countries. Shock, confusion, excitement, joy. His emotions had been manifold. Oh, if only he had been reborn a male, and he could have lived out his anime dreams; or so he thought as he lay on his futon late at night staring at the ceiling; cursing the fates for his misfortune. Because of his removal from Konoha at the tender age of not-even-a-day, he had absolutely no idea at what point in the timeline he was. His father had educated him in history, atleast somewhat, so he was pretty certain he was very early, or possibly even predating canon. Depending on how early it really was, there was a lot of things he could.. _fix. _If he decided to, of course.

He could lie and say that having "the weight of the world" and so many possible lives resting on his shoulders troubling, hard and even possibly maddening; but if truth were to be told, he enjoyed it a great deal.

His fancy eyes and the secret techniques his _father _was teaching him, coupled with his out-of-the-world knowledge, made him a powerful individual indeed. Were he to look at it as one of his adored fan-written alternative universe stories, he might even count himself as a bit of a Stu, with all the neat powers he had ended up with. Then the cat exploded, his hair (and his face, and really, all of him) was drenched in blood, and he cursed his wandering mind. He'd give up that personality quirk if he could.

* * *

He was eight. By now, he had his father's techniques all down; the man praised her as a prodigy, but Yuki privately thought that if Hisao had been willing to share his _secrets _and tried to teach others, he'd find the truth; the techniques weren't all that hard to learn, you just needed the correct point of view. If you had that down, it was easier than most other forms of healing; Yuki had been attempted taught proper iryo-nin techniques, but to little success.

He could do chakra scalpels, but found fighting with them to be a hassle, and much preferred standarized weaponry; the kunai. Diagnostic ninjutsu he had been forced to perfect, as it was required to know exactly what you were doing and what needed to be done with the Cellular Healing Technique he had been taught. The Mystic Palm, the signature medical jutsu, was far beyond him; Hisao had tried to teach it to her, but the young age and inexpertice prevented it. Also, Yuki weren't all that motivated to learn it; he was aware that he could learn it once he returned to Konoha, so he needen't worry himself with it now. Procrastination is a man's best friend, wasn't it so the saying went?

Unbeknownst to his _father, _Yuki had practiced a great deal with his Sharingan eyes (he had been born with them activated? Really? So much for consistency, Plot Gods!) and felt completely confident as the time event horizon approached; it was time for him to return home; the kidnapper Minami no longer held any use for him, and Konoha was, after all, the most central location to the plot. If he wanted to matter, he needed to be there; not in this outskirt village where half the population didn't even know the name of the current Hokage. Which, curiously, was Sarutobi Hiruzen; if this was after or before Minato he did not know, and he couldn't ask without triggering suspicions. He'd find out soon enough, hopefully; Hisao had no reason to expect the child that he thought thought of him as a loving father to ambush him.

It didn't end up being much of an ambush, however; just a quick glance into the legendary red spinning eyes and the _"Legendary" _medic was gone to the world.

* * *

**So. An update. I didn't think this would happen, really, but it did. It's short, its not very good, the writing is extremely "tell, not show" and super heavy; I expected as much; I am not a great writer. I never claimed I was. I probably never will be. This kind of fic is, at its core, wish-fullfilment, and that is never good for a story. I have, however, tried to split the OC further from my own personality, as it was modeled after, and I try my best, in every paragraph, to keep the OC from becoming OP. It's not easy, though, it really isnt... Writing a full out Stu is always tempting, blowing Kage level ninja away and never having a single worry. **

**TL;DR Sorry for slow update, will try to update faster, cannot promise. This chapter probably isnt very good, but please leave a review if you got through it. FEEDBACK IS THE BEST WAY TO IMPROVE**


	3. Execution

When Hisao returned to conscience, he was strapped to the wall, and a cursory feel of his chakra system told him that the pathways to his arms had been cut. In a weird way, he felt pride in his _daughter _having the skill necessary to perform such a precise incision without killing him. She would make a great iryo-nin someday, that was absolutely for certain.

Their central room, and by extension, their entire house, had always been very spartan. In the room he was currently strapped up in, there was a low table; also, an alien looking chair that Yuki had had made custom; it had been quite expensive, but when he had secretively tried it out when the child was asleep, he had been impressed with the comfort it provided; leant back, it provided a very relaxing position that he could sit in for hours. Now, his daughter sat there, leant forwards with her elbows on her thighs; fingers forming a pyramid below her chin, upon which she rested her head. Old, he concluded, was how she looked, old and calculative.

* * *

"Why have you done this unto me, Yuki?" he asked, knitting his brows in confusion. His act had never slipped, had it? During history lessons he had always been careful with revealing too much, and he had carefully crafted a life story that should fit perfectly with everything Yuki knew. The only way would be if somehow the child could remember the day of it's birth.. but no, surely that couldn't be possible. Even a Sharingan shouldn't be able to remember such a traumatic day, not to speak of so clearly that it could be comprehended. It had been, after all, a newborn babe behind those eyes on that day, not the intelligent and clever girl there was now. But how else could it be explained? Hisao could not, for the life of him, figure out why Yuki would have done this. Had she not loved him, as a daughter ought? Had he not been the perfect father? And then she spoke, and his curiosity was sated.

"I have done to you, _father, _exactly what one such as you deserve." He felt he had put a sufficient amount of spite into the word. He did not want to explain his origins to the one that had called himself his father for these past eight years; instead, he hoped he would just believe that he somehow _knew. _And by the pained look in brown eyes, he did. Yuki allowed himself to smile; he hoped it looked as creepy as it did when the demon possessed children in horror movies did it. This it did not, but it unsettled the chained man nonetheless.

"One such as me? What wrong did I ever do you, child," Hisao replied, dancing the cautious dance of dialogue; he could see it in the child's body language, the kunai spinning casually on her left index finger; he was pleading, somewhat, but not much so; pity was not a good emotion to evoke when your captor might, (probably, he thought bitterly. She had never been a normal child), might be a little bit mentally unstable.

Scratch that; insane would be the better term, as he flinched to the side violently as the kunai suddenly slammed into the wall by his head. Kami knows he was glad he had taught her how to aim her projectiles properly.

"To steal a child from it's parents? To lie to them? Did you look them in the eyes when you told them I was dead? Could you do that? Could you face them now, knowing what you did? This is what you have done; tormented innocent people for only your own cause. This is the act of a cruel man, a despicable man. One such man should not be allowed to walk an earth such as this." Yuki's smile only grew as the man on the wall flinched and shrank back as every syllable hit him as hard as a freight train.

"Did you ever consider them? Did you ever consider _me?"_

This time, the kunai didn't bang into the wall; instead, it sank into tender meat, a soft _schlick _as it sank deep into his _father's _calf. Only a slight trickle of blood escaped, rolling down the man's bare legs; Yuki had come upon him as he left the bath, woefully unprepared and without caution, feeling wholly safe in his home.

"Was there ever any love, or was it all for your precious techniques? Did you tear apart a family, for this? For a jutsu and a perfect iryo-nin that can't even use the Mystic Palm Technique?"

Yuki sank back into the recliner, for that was what it was, and adapted a contemplating look as she awaited the doomed man's reply. Idly, a strand of raven hair fell onto her face; it framed it, the smile, the sinister eyes where he could still see the ghostly afterimages of the sharingan.

"I will admit that I stole you away to have an heir to pass my heritage onto. I must say, I felt as if I was doing you a favor, taking you away from that clan, even, and as time passed by, I can say nothing but that I started to care for you, deeply; I love you as strongly as if you were my own flesh and blood, and I will accept any punishment you seem fit for such a humongous flaw of judgement as I did that day. It was a grievous mistake, and unforgivable, but I pray still that you will find it within you to take such mercy on one such as me, and forgive." His head was bowed when he finished; had his eyes been for the world to see; a sheen of unshed tears would have been the play; but it would not be, for Yuki had had enough of the pleas, and took rapid action;

"There is not one judge in these lands that would find pity in your words; there is naught an execution halted because the convict pleas err in his judgement. Tell me _everything, _and it will be swift. I promise you this."

And if Hisao had ever doubted Yuki in anything, it was not this; she would be true to her word, if he submitted, and what else could he do? What use would withholding information be now, to the child he had come to care greatly for, when every piece of information lacked could be fatal? And so, he told her everything.

* * *

"...and, after observing my own funeral procession from the shadows, I left Konoha. I had already prepared this place, in case anything like this would ever come up, and I would need a place to live, away from home.. away from Konohagakure. I suppose asking you to return my remains to my birthplace is too much to ask?"

The man, now weary and tired, looked up; for he had been staring at the floor as he told his tale, much too ashamed to look his _daughter _in her eyes, those hauntingly dark eyes that had tricked him so thoroughly, and he faced her now, brown, sad eyes pleading.

Yuki was a statue, his eyes unmoving, his face a block of the solid ice. Inside, his emotions were split; one side wished to be the badass, cynical killing machine he had always somewhat desired, to rise, take the one, two steps required and slit the man's throat with his own kunai; another felt sympathy for the sorry man, wanted to end it in a humbler way, agree to a dying man's final wish and bring the remains with him to the leaf village. Shoving them in a scroll wouldn't be any trouble, and he could just bury the storage scroll; it'd hold for long enough. And if it didn't, well, he'd just have to work some Katon magic.

"I will.." pausing for dramatic tension, he had learned from long hours of action movies, was always a good idea, "not comply to the wishes of kidnappers. A part of me wishes I could, abolish myself of this feeling of pity, but I cannot do such a thing. I could, perhaps, say that it would be against my nindo, but that would be a lie; I myself is likely one of the most dishonest individuals walking the Elemental Nations as of now."

Yuki paused, and considered for a moment. At the wall, Hisao wondered what would come next. Surely it couldn't get worse.

"I must thank you for my upbringing. It's been very educational, and for one such as me, it has been a good upbringing. Perhaps if I had been a normal child, your care would not have been so good to me. But as is, I sincerely thank you, even if I must also curse and hate you for stealing me away."

Yuki rose, and Hisao lowered his head; the sounds of nature and wildlife from outside seemed to fade away, and it was only the two, deep, balanced breaths and shorter, shallowed and, almost, panicky ones.

Metal flashed.

Then there was one breath, that moved around the household, packing down everything of value.

Yuki didn't look back as he set of towards Konoha, a raging inferno behind; at least Hisao had didn't end up as feed for the carrions. He'd be happy about that, at the very least, the boy turned young girl thought as he left his childhood behind.

Home was waiting.

* * *

**So, um, what is this? Short, unnecessary chapter is the answer. If I had planned ahead, I would have written this and the previous one together; sadly, I could not anticipate being left sleepless by this heat. I am fully aware that the chapter is on the shorter side of things, and I've also come to realize that I don't think my style of writing is the best for fanfictions. Perhaps I would be better of in the lands of Fantasy Epics', where my lack of dialogue and excessive descriptive text can be excused :P**

**Anyway, I'll try not to do these double post of tiny chapters again, and I'll try to get a more regular schedule. I might try to make my writing a bit more organic, as well. I feel it needs it. Talking about needing, I need feedback, especially on Yuki. I'm really not sure how I'm doing the character. It feels okay, but theres probably flaws I'm overseeing. Notify me, please! :]**


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